Birthday
by Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic
Summary: A little post musical Fiyeraba fluff... I REFUSE to have writer's block.


She wasn't sure who was at fault, him or her. She supposed it _could _have been herself, and her inherent inability to shop and her inexperience with gift giving in general; she preferred to believe that it was him. She knew it was cliché, but Fiyero was the most difficult man in Oz to find a gift for. She was pretty sure he had a collection of failed gifts in the bottom of his sock drawer. He was always his gracious self- made a show of thanking her, but she knew she had never quite gotten it right. She had even asked him directly, what he wanted for his birthday. He would always shrug, in that laid back way of his, and tell her he had everything he could want. It was very sweet, but also very infuriating.

So she was taking a risk. She just hoped she didn't wind up embarrassing herself.

It was their fourth year together. The first one had been spent traveling, him still trapped in the body of a Scarecrow. After that they had settled into an Animal Reservation, the only humans living there. She had been worried about how he would adjust- out of his element, unsure about the future. The worrying had all been for nothing, though, because she had been able to find another spell to return him to a human form and he seemed to enjoy being a part of the reservation. They were happy... other than her failure when it came to gift giving, anyway.

* * *

Well, she'd put a change to that. Hopefully.

She smiled to herself contently as she dried the silverware and dishes from their dinner- she'd cooked, like she usually did, as the height of his culinary skills had proved to be burning oatmeal. He normally had dish duty, but tonight she'd forbidden him from doing it- for one thing, she'd hidden the small package in the cabinet that usually just held drinking glasses. She grabbed it, a small box wrapped in dark blue paper, tied with a silver ribbon. If nothing else the packaging was pretty... no more stalling it, then.

She walked out to the living room, where she'd told him to wait for her. She smiled at him, "Expecting something?" she teased him, seeing his eyes go to the package.

"Well, it seems I'm right, anyway," he said and opened his arms up to her so she sat down next to him, half in his lap. She smiled as she felt one of his arms wrap around her, keeping her close to him.''

"Everyone is, every once in a while," she teased him, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Yero." She handed him the box to open it, holding her breath, nervously hoping that this was not all about to blow up in her face.

He opened it, and looked perplexed. Picking up the lacy midnight blue and black... _thing_ his face screwed up in confusion. "Love, I don't think this is my size."

She laughed, taking it from him. "But it is mine," she said, watching as he slowly realized exactly what she meant. Without giving him a chance to say anything, she got up and walked toward their bedroom. "Give me ten minutes."

He was pretty sure it was one of the longest ten minutes of his life, but he pushed through, and was rewarded handsomely- his wife sitting on their bed against the pillows, hair wavy from a day spent with it tightly braided. "I've learned I really, really fail at gift giving. I decided to take a different approach."

He was unbuttoning his shirt even as she said it, "I think I like it when you get creative,"

"That's a good thing," she said, and he went to her, kissing her as he joined her on the bed.

Four yeas had passed since she had faked her own death. There was no longer the forbidden fear that had been there the first time they had made love, or the ecstatic relief from when his humanity was restored. However, in those years they had proved that they belonged together- they did not simply need the thrill of the unknown or the excitement of a brand new relationship. They needed each other.

He held her tightly to him, the lacy garment now resting with his clothing in a small heap on the floor. She'd called herself soul less, without a sense of true self or identity- although he'd never known a more individual person, more unique, more independent. Yet she was his, and he was hers in a way that no one else had ever come close to.

Later in the night, when they were both half asleep, he nudged her shoulder. "Elphaba?" He asked, as she rolled over to face him. "Just so you know, you're better at this whole gift giving thing than you thought.


End file.
